


Summer's Burn

by Hazel_Athena



Series: Mag7Week [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, PWP, Summer Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: By Faraday's estimation it is hot enough to melt the skin off a man's bones, and if he spends any more time out in the sun his entire body is going to become one giant blister. He's long had trouble with heat because of his fair complexion, but this is frankly ridiculous.





	Summer's Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Together" prompt in Mag7Week, though I'll admit I'm reaching with that one. It didn't exactly turn out as anticipated and is I'd say my weakest in the fest.

By Faraday's estimation it is hot enough to melt the skin off a man's bones, and if he spends any more time out in the sun his entire body is going to become one giant blister. He's long had trouble with heat because of his fair complexion, but this is frankly ridiculous.

Wandering out of the stables where he'd been making sure Jack was appropriately watered, he heads for the saloon and the rooms the seven have been renting up above it. They'd arrived in town two days ago, at which point Sam had decreed they weren't moving on again until the temperature broke. The town might be small and the difference between the temperatures outside the buildings versus inside minimal at best, but it had ready access to water and the ability to get in out of the sun was a necessary respite not offered by the open road.

Groaning, Faraday steps into the saloon. As previously noted, it's barely any cooler in here, but at least the vicious sun isn't beating down on him anymore, not the way it had been during his short trek on his way over. 

He spots Billy, Goodnight, Jack and Sam clustered around one of the tables, each of them nursing a drink in a no doubt futile attempt to cool down. Wondering idly where Red's made off too, he notes that the first three men have done away with coats and vests, and even Sam's cracked open the first two buttons of his shirt in a tacit admission that he's not immune to the heat.

"Faraday," Sam says, nodding as he approaches. "Boy, you look like you could use a drink."

What Faraday really needs is a bath or a dunking in a nice cool stream or, hell, he'd take getting caught in a rainstorm right about now, anything to put a chill on him for even a moment. Unfortunately, none of those things is available, so a drink will have to do. Reaching for the proffered jug, he nods his thanks as he sits down.

Pulling the stopper out, he sloshes a generous amount into an available cup, not caring when he takes a swig and discovers it's water not whiskey. It's not exactly cold, more lukewarm at best, but it helps a little. 

"I'm goin' to be so happy when this fuckin' heat breaks," he says fervently. "Can't remember the last time I was in a summer this bad."

"It is a bit uncomfortable, isn't it?" Goodnight agrees, fanning himself with his hat. He's stripped down to only the shirt he wears under his usual waistcoat, with the sleeves rolled up as high as they'll go and half the buttons undone. Usually the most overdressed of the lot of them, Faraday suspects if he wasn't in a public bar, he'd have stripped off the shirt altogether.

For some reason this makes him think of the two parties of their merry band who _aren't_ out and about, and he hears himself ask where they've gotten to.  

"Red was feeling restless so he went off on his own for a bit, and Vasquez said something about wanting a nap." Sam tells him. "He headed upstairs about half an hour ago."

"We figure he's trying to beat the heat by sleeping until sundown on the off chance it cools a bit then," Goodnight adds helpfully, and beside him Billy snorts, making it clear how viable he thinks this plan is. "I didn't say I thought it would work, cher."

This time Billy hums his agreement, but it's as if the heat has gotten to even him, leaving him without the energy to speak - not that he's overly chatty in general, granted.

"Ain't nothin' goin' to beat this heat at this rate," Faraday grumbles. Setting his now empty cup down on the table, he reaches up to adjust the bandana he has around his neck. Finding it damned near soaked through with sweat, he says a mental to hell with it and tugs it off; tucking it away in his pocket once it's free.

Beside him, Sam eyes him warily. "If that's the first item of clothing you've seen fit to remove in this weather, no wonder you look like you're  two steps away from keeling over."

Faraday shrugs, not wanting to get into it. "I'm fine," he says with an airy wave, "but I think I might try a page out of Vas's book and see if a nap might not be possible. Thanks for the drink."

Without another word, he's up and away from the table, suddenly not in the mood for conversation. If the others find his behaviour strange none of them say so, which is admittedly something of a relief. Jack, Sam and Goodnight all tend to be worrywarts in the right circumstances, and the length of time required for him to heal following Rose Creek meant Faraday has already felt more of the brunt of this than most.

Forcing such thoughts out of his head as he climbs the steps to the floor where their rooms are located, he trots over to his door, easing it open slowly to avoid disturbing anyone inside.

It turns out he needn't have bothered. Despite what he'd been told downstairs, Vasquez is wide awake and sitting up on the bed that's not covered in both their gear. He's idly whittling something in his hands, probably the horse carving he'd been working on the last time Faraday had caught him at it. In deference to the heat he's shucked his shirt and vest entirely, while also rolling his trousers up above the knee, leaving his bare feet on display where they're resting atop the bedcovers.

"Well, don't you look comfy," Faraday mutters. Coming inside, he closes the door behind him and drops into the only chair the room boasts. It's a rickety old thing, groaning under his weight. Only when he's sure it's not going to collapse right out beneath him does Faraday lean forward and begin doing away with his own boots.

Vasquez doesn't say anything, but Faraday feels the heavy weight of his gaze on the back of his neck. When he looks up after dealing with his footwear, it's to find Vasquez frowning down at him in concern. "What?"

"You're overdressed," Vasquez says flatly, and Faraday groans inwardly. "It's hot enough to roast a man, and you haven't even taken your vest off. Why?"

"Because I was out in the stables," Faraday says. He begins unhooking the buttons of the vest in question. "Don't worry, I am now."

Vasquez keeps staring at him, and when Faraday's fingers falter under the weight of his gaze, he huffs. Setting his carving aside, he climbs off the bed, crossing what little distance there is between them with ease. "Let me."

Confused, but willing to play along, Faraday lets him do as he pleases, obediently holding still as Vasquez's clever fingers slip each button out of place. He likewise doesn't protest when Vasquez shoves the vest back off his shoulders, tossing it to the side with little concern for where it lands, but his goodwill ends the moment the man's hands curl over the bottom hem of his shirt, moving to tug it upwards.

"No," he says, grabbing Vasquez by the wrists and pulling him away. "I'm fine as I am."

"You're sweating so much it's stuck to you," Vasquez says, like he thinks Faraday's being unreasonable. "There's nobody around. Take it off."

"No thanks," Faraday says decisively. He eyes Vasquez warily on the off chance the other man might make a grab for him. "I'm better now I'm inside and have taken a couple layers off."

Vasquez makes an annoyed sound, and reaches out again. "Guero," he says chidingly when Faraday tries to shift away. "You'll feel better. Trust me, I do." Then because he's an utter, utter bastard who knows Faraday far too well, he adds softly, "They're nothing to be bothered by."

"Don't know what you mean by that," Faraday says mulishly. He crosses his arms over his chest for the express purpose of being difficult. "Quit talkin' nonsense, Vas."

"Yes, you do, and it is not nonsense." Vasquez gives him a light tap on the shoulder before reaching for the shirt yet again. "Lift up."

Because he doesn't have the energy to get into a brawl, and knows full well that's the extent Vasquez will take it to if he wants to prove a point, Faraday does as he's told. "You're bein' ridiculous," he mutters, the words getting muffled by the fabric of his shirt as it's removed.

"If you say so," Vasquez replies dubiously. "Me, I think it is you who is being ridiculous. This weather is too hot for even me to be comfortable, let alone you."

Resolving to give Vasquez some of his own back the next time they're somewhere even remotely chilly and their positions are reversed, Faraday scowls. Fighting the urge to cross his arms back over his chest, he can hardly think of a more obvious tell after all, he refuses to meet Vasquez's eye. Instead, he grumbles at the floor. "Shirt's gone, you happy now?"

Vasquez snorts. "It’s disgustingly warm, and the rain the locals keep promising has yet to make an appearance. I'm just as miserable as you, but at least I'm not deliberately making it worse for myself."

"Vas," Faraday says warningly, but as usual Vasquez keeps right on going. He'd wormed his way past Faraday's defences months ago, and at this point there's very little he won't say if he's of a mind to.

"They're not something worth hiding," he says firmly. "Especially not at the expense of your own comfort."

Faraday follows his gaze and glances down at his own torso, admittedly not much caring for what he finds there.

The bullet scars are the ones that stand out the most, first the three that lie almost in a perfect line at the top of his chest, and then the forth, the initial one, which sits gnarled and ugly at his side. These are just the start of things, however. Along with them are numerous jagged lines left over from shrapnel of the exploding Gatling gun. His torso had taken the brunt of that, although he did have a few new lines on his face and a couple on his legs that certainly hadn't been there before.

"Goddamned patchwork," he growls as he continues looking, eyeing the multiple places where needle and thread had been forced to stitch him back together. He prods tentatively at one of the upper bullet scars. "Wouldn't mind so much if folks didn't stare the way they do."

"Nobody here but you and me, Joshua," Vasquez says softly. "And I've seen them plenty of times."

"Sure, when they first happened and I didn't have any say in who was around," Faraday points out. "That don't count."

"Not just then." Vasquez rolls his eyes, and gives Faraday his best exasperated look. "What, you think I always keep my eyes closed when we fuck?"

"That don't count either," Faraday says, stomping down on the slight twinge in his gut at Vasquez's words. "That's either fumblin' about when we've got a moment to spare and are still half dressed, or it's at night when it's mostly dark. Candles don't show as much as the sun does."

Vasquez's expression shifts so that it's more than a little incredulous, and he bites down on what Faraday suspects would've been a rather scathing retort. "You are a ridiculous man, querido," he says instead, reaching up to trails his fingers over some of Faraday's more prominent scars, knowing full well that he and he alone is the only person Faraday would allow such liberties. "Do you know, I rather like them?"

Faraday gapes at him. "What in the hell kind of thing is that to say?"

"The truth," Vasquez replies with an easy shrug. "They're proof that you survived. I don't like what you went through to get them, but that's a different matter."

"I ... guess?" Faraday tries. In all honesty he's not sure how to respond. "They're still nasty things to look at though."

"And sometimes you're a very nasty person." Vasquez grins when Faraday glowers at him. "Don't worry, I like that too. You'd be boring otherwise."

"Boring!" Faraday hisses. In the back of his mind there's a tiny voice telling him this is Vasquez trying to get a rise out of him, but he ignores it. "Goddamned Mexican ingrate! I'll show you _boring_ , muchacho."

Vasquez is ready for him when he moves, however. When Faraday jolts up to try and grapple with him, the other man twists, shifting with much more speed than some might give him credit for, and the next thing Faraday knows he's flat on his back on their bed with Vasquez staring down at him.

"You lose, guero." Vasquez grins as he leans in to steal a kiss that manages to feel an awful lot like a win to Faraday, who parts his lips easily when Vasquez nudges at him, letting the other man's tongue slip inside and lick into his mouth.

"This is hardly goin' to help with the heat," he grumbles when Vasquez pulls back and starts leaving a trail of kisses along his throat. Faraday gasps when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. "Jesus!"

Vasquez lifts his head, the wicked gleam in his eye more obvious than ever given the warm sunlight drifting into the room. "You want me to stop?" He asks, grinning.

In answer, Faraday lifts a hand up and yanks viciously at his hair, directing his head back where it had been. "If I want you to stop, I'll say so. Get back to what you were doin'."

Giving as good as he gets, Vasquez flicks his tongue over one of Faraday's many raised scars, and then bites down at the unblemished skin of his throat. He moves with Faraday easily when he gasps and bucks up, seemingly unconcerned by the whole motion.

Faraday's still reeling slightly from the unexpected turn the afternoon has taken, but he doesn't complain, merely groans appreciatively when Vasquez palms him through the fabric of his pants and then goes to undo them. "Was this your plan all along?" He asks breathlessly.

Vasquez snorts as he works to free Faraday from his trousers. "My plan was to have a nap, but I couldn't fall asleep because of the heat. Maybe if I tire myself out with you first it'll work."

"Oh, so I'm just a means to an end, am I?" Faraday jokes. "I should've known."

Vasquez pauses in what he's doing, something like concern flashing across his face. "If you don't want," he says slowly, and Faraday has no choice but to curl a hand around the back of his neck and haul him in.

"I want," he assures in between bruising kisses. "I always want. Never mind my weird hang ups."

"It's not weird," Vasquez tells him firmly. He splays one of his hands over Faraday's chest, encompassing some of the worst scars in the process as he grinds down against him. "I know you don't like them, I just don't think it has to be that way."

"Well, maybe you can have special privileges where seein' 'em is concerned," Faraday decides. He finds the top of Vasquez's trousers with grasping fingers, tugging at them insistently. "But enough sappy shit. Get your clothes off, and fuck me."

Clearly not having to be told twice, Vasquez rolls off to the side and starts doing as requested. He has a little trouble getting his pants all the way off because he forgets that he's got them bunched up over his knees and things get a little jumbled for a moment, but then he's standing there buck naked, grinning down at Faraday like the cat that got into the cream. "You have something you want, guero?"

Faraday doesn't blink. "Slick now. Fuck now. You've got ten seconds before I start without you."

For all that Vasquez is a naturally contrary menace who likes to say black when Faraday says white just to piss him off, he doesn't hesitate in listening. Stepping away just long enough to fish out the bottle they keep stored in one or both of their packs for occasions such as this, he crawls back onto bed with a triumphant look on his face.

Pleased himself, Faraday moves to turn over to give him better access, surprised to say the least when Vasquez stops him with a hand on his hip. "No, cariño," he says firmly. "Like this."

Aware that Vasquez is changing the rules on him, and not entirely sure how he feels about it, Faraday nevertheless does as he's told, remaining flat on his back while Vasquez settles between his spread legs.

"You tryin' to make some sort of point?" He asks, the last word coming out in a groan when Vasquez licks a stripe across his own palm, and then strokes Faraday with it. 

"No point, guero," he says calmly. "Just taking my time since we have all day and nowhere else to be."

Faraday's not adverse to a slower than average romp, truth be told he likes it when they get to do this, but that doesn't make him any less suspicious of Vasquez's intentions. "Just so long as you don't drag it out too long," he determines, reclining back in a position of studied nonchalance. "I'm not exactly known for my patience."

"That just means you could use the practice," Vasquez shoots back, but before Faraday can think up a reply he's slicking up a finger and breaching him slowly. "Maybe someday I should tie you down so you have to take only what I give you, hmm?"

Faraday feels an unexpected lurch in his gut at that thought, and something must show on his face because Vasquez smirks at him. "We can talk about that later," he says, patting Faraday on the hip with his free hand. "Though, don't think I'm going to forget."

His face heating in a way that has nothing to do with the outside temperature, Faraday focuses his attention on the ceiling, refusing to look back at Vasquez until he feels another finger slip inside him. Gasping at the sensation, he briefly raises himself up on his elbows, and then sinks back down again when Vasquez brushes over the spot that never fails to make him see stars.

"Fuck," he groans, and Vasquez chuckles above him.

"Sí, guero. That's the idea."

Faraday nudges him with his knee a bit in reprimand, but the pleasure Vasquez is currently coaxing out of his body means his heart's not really in it. "Goddamn," he breathes. No matter how many times they do this, he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to the way Vasquez always seems to know exactly what makes him tick. 

Eventually Vasquez deems him to be open enough to move on, and then he’s pressing into Faraday, long and hard and feeling so damned good it damn well makes his vision white out. Faraday rocks into his thrusts, chasing that elusive high that will send him tipping over the edge into pure bliss, determined not to stop until he gets it, and judging by the amount of effort Vasquez is putting into things he’s no better.

It’s Faraday who comes first; throwing his head back and letting out a choked off cry as he spills hot and messy over both of them, but Vasquez isn’t far behind. He fucks into Faraday a few more times before letting out a guttural moan, his arms noticeably shaking where they’re braced on either side of Faraday, effectively trapping him in in a way he loves yet refuses to admit out loud.

Vasquez sags down on top of him in something akin to a controlled fall, and in spite of the still oppressive heat, Faraday curls a hand around his back to draw him in closer. His fingers glide over the notches of the other man’s spine, trailing back and forth in an exploratory fashion. Although, it’s not like he needs to explore, at this point he knows Vasquez’s body almost as well as he knows his own. And yet something makes him keep up the motion until Vasquez makes an inquisitive noise.

“You okay, guero?”

Faraday considers this. “Well, it’s still hotter than blazes out, and you’re a goddamned blast furnace all on your own, but yeah, I’m good.”

Groaning, Vasquez rolls over until he’s lying beside Faraday rather than on top of him, though this does little to affect the temperature. It’s so warm out that the sweat they’ve worked up isn’t likely to cool off any time soon. “Maybe we should have thought this through a bit better.”

Faraday thinks it over. “Nah,” he says finally. “I can think of far worse ways to pass the time than a lazy afternoon fuck.”

“Mmm,” Vasquez hums agreeably, curling onto his side so that he can prop himself up on one elbow and peer down at Faraday. “Feel like a nap?”

“Dunno,” Faraday replies. “Think you can actually manage one now?”

In answer Vasquez yawns and settles himself down on the pillow that Faraday hasn’t already commandeered. “I can at least try,” he murmurs drowsily, and Faraday has to fight a sudden urge to laugh. For all that he likes his life spent roaming to and fro in search of new messes to get involved in; Vasquez is a man of simple tastes. Give him a full belly, a decent lay, or both, and he’s content with the world.

“Go to sleep, you big idiot,” Faraday says fondly, watching as Vasquez’s eyes slip shut even further. “Maybe with a little luck you’ll wake up and find the rain the locals keep promising us has finally decided to make an appearance.”

Vasquez rouses himself enough to make a scoffing sound at this, and prods at Faraday as if to tell him he’s not funny. Pleased that he can interpret such vague actions, Faraday prods him right back, and they dissolve into a half-hearted shoving match that ends almost as quickly as it begins.

“Go to sleep,” Faraday says again once they’ve stopped, brushing a kiss into Vasquez’s hair since he’s leaned in close now. “You know you want to.”

Vasquez huffs out an agreeable noise and as Faraday watches his breathing slowly evens out until he’s snoring softly next to him. Faraday grins, that same fond feeling from before welling up inside him without his permission. “It’s possible I really lucked out when I found you,” he says, deciding this is okay since no one’s around to hear him getting all mushy. He has a reputation to uphold after all.

Thinking he might like to try for a nap himself, for real this time, Faraday burrows into his own pillow, waiting to see if sleep might claim him.

*****

Faraday comes awake some time later as a result of a hand that’s wrapped around his shoulder, shaking him roughly. “Wha?” He tries; blinking sleep out of his eyes as he groggily drags himself into a sitting position. He’s been out for a while, a fact that he can tell because where there’d previously been sunlight streaming into their room, now there’s nothing but a pale glow from the moon, and even that doesn’t appear to be as bright as it should.

“Guess I was more tired than I thought,” he says, only to have his attention grabbed by Vasquez who he belatedly realizes is rather excited about something. “What is it?”

“Lluvia,” Vasquez supplies helpfully, and Faraday’s about to ask what the hell that means when a distant crack rings out and the room is quickly illuminated by a flash of lightening.

“Holy shit,” he says, impressed. “That’s close.”

“Sí,” Vasquez agrees, “and the rain is already here. Come look.”

He wanders over to the window, which Faraday now realizes has been opened sometime while he was still asleep. Following him, Faraday sees that it is, indeed, raining. It’s also noticeably cooler than it was several hours ago, the storm doing away with the most oppressive of the warmth.

“Damn, that feels good.” Faraday sighs happily as a slight breeze wafts into the room. “Wonder how long this’ll keep up?”

“No idea,” Vasquez says helpfully. When Faraday turns to look at him he sees that he’s tugged his pants back on and is slipping into one of his loose linen shirts. “But, me, I want to enjoy it while it lasts.”

“You want to -?” Faraday blinks. “Are you telling me you want to go out in this?”

Vasquez grins as he hops about on one foot while getting his boots on. “Sí, want to go together?”

Faraday gapes at him and then bursts out laughing. “Alright,” he says once the guffaws have subsided. “I have a sneakin’ suspicion one or both of us is goin’ to wind up regrettin’ this, but I’ll come. Where’d you toss my pants?”

Laughing back at him, Vasquez scoops said pants question up off the floor and tosses the rolled up bundle at Faraday’s face. “Come on, guero. Hurry up.”

Shaking his head, Faraday does as he’s told.


End file.
